Again the pen was laid aside, and lying back in her chair with her head against its cushions, she closed her eyes with a weary sigh, a tear trickling slowly down her cheek.
"I cannot work," she murmured. "Ah, if I could only stop thinking these miserable, wicked thoughts!"
Mrs. Travilla, returning from a visit to the quarter, stopped a moment to watch the croquet players.
"Where is Molly?" she asked of her eldest daughter; "did she go with your grandpa and the others?"
"No, mamma, she is in her room, hard at work as usual, poor thing!"
"She is altogether too devoted to her work; she ought to be out enjoying this delicious weather. Surely you did not neglect to invite her to join you here, Elsie?"
"No, mamma, I did my best to persuade her. I can hardly bear to think she is shut up there alone, while all the rest of us are having so pleasant an afternoon."
"It is too bad," Mr. Embury remarked, "and I was strongly tempted to venture into her sanctum and try my powers of persuasion; but refrained lest I should but disturb the flow of thought and get myself into disgrace without accomplishing my end. Have you the courage to attempt the thing, Mrs. Travilla?"
"I think I must try," she answered, with a smile, as she turned away in the direction of the house.
She found Molly at work, busied over a translation for which she had laid aside the unfinished story interrupted by the younger Elsie's visit.